


You Caught Me

by myfinefriend



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Molly Hooper Appreciation, Post Reichenbach, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfinefriend/pseuds/myfinefriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returns from the fall and Molly is waiting. The pair reflect on their respective experiences of life and each other before, during and after the fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Caught Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Sherlock fic (and first AO3 post) so apologies for any mis-tagging (or lack of) - I'm a little tentative in case I do something wrong in that area now I'm coming out of lurk-dom. Also, I love feedback and comments, so don't be shy! :)

"John's been having nightmares again," Molly said softly, sipping her tea. Her voice was calm and gentle but the searing white knuckles wrapped too tightly around her mug said different. Sherlock was silent for a beat as he studied her, all of her, before closing his eyes. The complexity of the situation was too much to fathom, the mixture of emotions making for conflicting data that refused to be silenced. His head was screaming with it all and the blackness of his closed eyelids was a relief.  
"I am sorry." He said finally. He truly meant it and he wanted her to believe it.

***

Sherlock Holmes learnt a lot when he fell. He learnt the intricacies of dying (and all of the accompanying paperwork), the harshness of a Russian winter (he still had the frostbite to prove it) and the working of the Bolivian prison system. He also learnt the true value of Molly Hooper. John he'd always known was indispensable. Lestrade was vital for work and judgement and for making sure he remained 'good'. Mrs Hudson looked after them, made them tea and biscuits and complained about the mess. Anthea was a pest, Donovan was an idiot and Mycroft was nothing more than a necessary evil. Molly Hooper, however, was a constant. Like wallpaper, she set the scene and filled in the gaps so efficiently that at first she barely registered. Yet when he stopped to look - to really look - he realised there was something more to her, some kind of quiet, subtle power which differentiated her from the Lestrades and Andersons and Donovans of the world. Molly wasn't an irritation or a colleague or a friend - she was something far more important. She was a constant. Molly Hooper in her clean and clinical Bart's uniform with her fumbling advances and undisguised hurt and bashful smile was always there. She was work and she was Christmas and she was fingers in the fridge and livers in the microwave. Molly Hooper listened and procured and made cups of black coffee with two sugars just for him and allowed him to wind her tightly around his little finger if only for that tiny compliment or merest hint of a smile... Molly Hooper was safe and warm and he knew her and he understood her and she would do anything for him and this, he thought, this now more than ever was priceless. Molly would never leave. This Molly, his Molly, who gave herself to him when he needed her most - who gave up her life for him and made the impossible possible just for him - was everything.


End file.
